St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City in Rome

St. Peter's Basilica

The Basilica

Taken as a whole, the Basilica is an enormous ciborium or baldachin hovering over Peter’s memorial, with the latter at the focal point of the entire architectonic system. In fact, it is located at the crossing of the longitudinal, transversal and vertical axes of the entire edifice. One is stunned by the monumental size of this great temple. It was erected during the course of a century (1506 to 1616) and under no fewer than eighteen popes, from Julius II to Paul V. Paul, in fact, put his name on the façade. Even afterwards, such popes as Urban VIII and Alexander VII were still promoting important works inside the Basilica, so that work continued straight through to the middle of the 16th century.

Bramante

The tormented course of this vast project— undertaken and later modified by eleven successive architects—is a fascinating story. Donato Bramante, one of the founding fathers of Renaissance architecture, drew up the initial plan in 1506. He conceived the basilica in the shape of a Greek cross, to be topped by a cupola whose vertical axis would come directly down to the tomb of the Apostle. Bramante wished to “place the dome of the Pantheon atop the huge vaulting of the Basilica of Maxentius”. Which is to say, to outdo the most sublime architecture of the classical world in order to glorify Peter.

Raphael, Giuliano da Sangallo, Michelangelo

Both Raphael and Giuliano da Sangallo subsequently objected to Bramante’s plan, bringing the designs back to a Latin cross. Antonio da Sangallo perfected the project and made a model in wood of the basilica that is recognizable to us today. In 1545, Michelangelo radically revised Bramante’s plan. The entire edifice, he reasoned, should be like a pedestal for a vast dome that would stand forth from a lofty tambour.

The Cupola

The conception of a curved cupola was transformed by Giacomo della Porta and Domenico Fontana into a pointed arch, which gave to the whole a thrust and spatial harmony that we still admire today. Indeed, we think of it as being inseparable from the Roman skyline. Finally, Carlo Maderno definitively settled on the notion of a Latin cross with a generous lengthening of the central nave. This not only permitted a much greater participation by the faithful; it allowed him to include in the new plan all those art works that were a part of what remained of the original basilica.

Finally, between 1612 and 1616, the imposing façade with its immense columns was brought to completion.

Consecration in 1626

For certain stretches of time, as many as 2,000 workers were engaged on the vast project. Eight hundred alone toiled on the tambour. They undertook twenty-two months of frenzied labor, working even at night by torchlight, in order to gratify Sixtus V’s pressing desire to bring the whole thing to conclusion. Finally, on May 14, 1590, the cupola was completed. But the official consecration of the “Temple”—as the new St. Peter’s then came to be called—was officiated by Pope Urban VIII on November 18, 1626. By all accounts, that date marked the 1,300th anniversary of Constantine’s original basilica.

Stunning measures

The measurements of all the other great basilicas throughout the Christian world are marked on the marble floor of the central nave. They speak eloquently of the vastness of this one, which covers an area of 44,000 square meters. St. Peter’s is 187 meters long, and this figure becomes 219 if you add the portico and the width of the walls. The façade of the church is as big as a soccer field, being 114 meters wide and 46 meters tall. With its diameter of 42.5 meters, the cupola virtually matches that of the Pantheon. At the summit of its cross, it stands 136 meters high.

A Sacred Message

A “Theological” Construction Inside, one is overwhelmed by the gold, the sumptuous statues, the solemn funerary monuments of the popes, and above all by the great scenographic triumph of Bernini’s baldachin above the confessional altar. Inevitably, we are filled with a feeling of reverence and awe in the presence of so much grandeur. Nor is the interior of St. Peter’s, as some have suggested, a purely theatrical experience. After the initial impact, the pilgrim begins to comprehend the sacred message that the building imparts.

The entire construction is dedicated to Peter’s special mission. Indeed, the great block letters at the base of the tambour beneath the cupola say as much: “Thou Art Peter, and Upon This Rock I Will Build My Church.” We understand then that we are in the presence of an architectural masterpiece that is also a theological edifice. No other church in the world can proclaim itself the visual expression of Christ’s words. If Peter is the rock upon which the community of believers was founded, this basilica, rising out of a sublime profession of Faith, is surely its visual realization. Everything we look at is an artistic expression of Christ’s mandate.

St. Peter's Square

If we go to the outside of the apse and study Michelangelo’s arrangement of windows, pilasters, geometric panels, cornices and dripstones, we perceive a message that is not merely artistic.We can intuit the solidity of the Church through the great horizontal lines before us. At the same time, the powerful vertical thrust of the mighty pilasters is crowned by corinthian capitals. A tension tending toward transcendence is strongly evoked by the propelling force of the cupola, something made emphatic by the sixteen double columns with vaulting ribs that lead all the way up to the cupola’s skylight. The cupola, with its massive profile, seems to be yearning for universality. Michelangelo wanted it immense, so that it would “embrace all the Christian peoples of the earth.”The inside of it could be a pictorial description of Paradise itself. Through the sixteen large windows, broad ribbons of shimmering light might appear to the visiting pilgrim as if forming a staircase down from heaven itself.

Stendhal's impression

So strong was the writer Stendhal’s impression of the place that he made the following entry in his journal. “It would be impossible not to be awed by a religion that has produced such works. Nothing in the world can compare with the interior of St. Peter’s. Even after a year’s residence in Rome, I would go there for hours to bask in the beauty of it.” The novelist then suggests that the visitor go directly beneath the cupola.“You must sit on a wooden bench and lean back as far as possible.That way, it will be possible to rest while contemplating the immense void that hovers above. However little one might possess of true spirituality, the imagination cannot fail to be staggered by the experience.”

The bronze baldachin by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Ineffable Lightness Central to the connection between Michelangelo’s cupola and Peter’s tomb is the superb bronze baldachin by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. In the midst of the vast basilica, there was the real possibility that Peter’s memorial—rather than remaining at the center of everything—might actually disappear. It was for this reason that Urban VIII, immediately upon his election in 1624, chose “his”sculptor, who he had known from the time he was a youth, to make a dramatic contribution to the Basilica. Specifically, Urban wanted Bernini to create a huge baldachin for the main altar, as if to put a crown over the Apostle’s sepulchre. Bernini conceived this architectural masterpiece as an immense piece of sculpture, a bronze construction fully twenty-nine meters high. Indeed, it was taller than any of the Renaissance palaces in Rome. And yet it somehow communicates a sense of celestial lightness. To our eyes, the twisting movement of the bronze columns suggests a spiralling ascent that loses itself in the bluish-gold light emanating from the mosaics above. These, located in the cupola, depict first Paradise and then (in the very cap of the lantern) God the Father. In effect, the twisting columns of the baldachin repeat the shape of the columns which supported Constantine’s ciborium. Eight of these now adorn the four balconies of the pilasters in the cupola, bearing witness to the continuity between the Medieval and the Renaissance ardor in keeping alive the memory of the Apostle.

Entrance doors

So far we’ve been magnetized by the vertical line that rises heavenward from the memorial to the Prince of Apostles. But the horizontal line is no less impressive.Take as an example the entrance to the Basilica. There are five large doors leading into the interior. The door to the far right is the Porta Santa, which is sealed shut and is only opened during a Year of Jubilee. The middle door, with shutters in bronze, was made by Filarete in 1439-45 and was already a part of the earlier basilica. Indeed, the door was the first great work of Renaissance art executed in Rome, although done by a Florentine. Of its six panels, two are dedicated to the martyrdom of Peter and Paul, whereas four horizontal strips narrate the principal episodes in the effort to reunite the Eastern and Western Churches. On the extreme left is the Door of Death (1964), on which the sculptor Giacomo Manzù depicted various ways in which a man might be martyred.

The Central Nave

From the very entrance, the main theme of the basilica is evident. The vast central nave with its barrel vaulting 44 meters above ground; the procession of thirty-nine early saints appearing in their niches; the twenty-eight allegorical figures representing the virtues jutting out from the large cornices; the pilasters in precious marbles; the arcade of seemingly triumphal arches—all these draw our gaze in the direction of Bernini’s baldachin. It looms before us like a call to prayer above the tomb of the Apostle.

The Central Throne

From the baldachin, we naturally look toward the end of the apse and the huge reliquary made by Bernini between 1658 and 1666. Enclosed within is a wooden chair or pulpit believed to have belonged to Peter. In reality, recent studies have revealed that it was a royal throne that the Carolingian sovereign Charles the Bald had made for himself. Probably he presented it to the pope on the occasion of his imperial coronation as Holy Roman Emperor in the Basilica at Christmas in 875. At the base of the throne are four large statues of early doctors of the Church: the Latin Ambrose and Augustine, and the Oriental Athanasius and John Chrysostom. With their stately gestures they seem to be upholding and sanctioning the authority of the pope, directly inspired by the Holy Spirit. Indeed, the hovering Holy Spirit is depicted as source of all light and wisdom by Bernini’s inspired choice of employing yellow-gold Bohemian glass to filter the light. With the intuition of the genius he was, Bernini was anticipating the times. The placement of the Holy Spirit above the pope seems a prelude to the Dogma of Papal Infallibility, proclaimed in this very basilica during Vatican Council I in 1870. And the presence of the four doctors of the church from East and West would seem to evoke the doctrine of episcopal collegiality affirmed by Vatican Council II in this very setting between 1962-65.

Triumph of Christianity

This vast church was modelled to express greatness, and in so doing to buttress the Counter-Reformation. The central nave was lengthened precisely in order to convey the concept of immensity and to accommodate the grandiose ceremonies and extensive processions. It was inconceivable to abandon a sacred area as rich in religious connotations as the one, amid which rose the nave of Constantine’s temple. In our time, the immense central nave has been turned into the Hall of a Great Council. That great length has become synonymous with universality. The historic events of the Church, the solemn celebrations, the canonizations and beatifications, the councils and synods, have always found there an adequate backdrop. The concrete expression in architecture of Peter’s profession of faith helps us to concentrate our gaze on his successor, the visible vicar on earth today. From the Apostle to the Church, from the Church to the pope. The basilica thus serves to connect all this. All three stand beside Christ, whose cross is everywhere triumphant and whose words—spelled out for all to see along the basilica’s great horizontal trabeation—serve to fuse forever faith and art.